Red Carpet
by NyanWolf
Summary: The place where one shots come to shine! Requests are loved and appreciated! Multi-genre. Chapter 17: Young Minho was always told to be strong. But that's not as easy as he thought.
1. Beautiful Children

Ava stroked the heads of the four children around her.

They nestled up next to her on the white carpet. Ava smiled at each of them in turn. None of them knew why they were here. None of them knew what they were going to help achieve. She had always wanted children. Precious beautiful children. It was a shame to think of what would happen to them.

"Where's mum?" A young boy with beautiful blond bangs asked with wide eyes. Ava hauled him onto her lap and he curled up into her body. He would be Newt.

"She told me to take good care of you, okay? I'm her friend. And I'm your friend too," Ava said with tight lips and a sad expression.

"Are you my friend too?" Another boy with dark hair who was slightly older. A few months more. Thomas. She smiled as best as she could and nodded.

"I'm thirsty," He said. Ava's eyes deepened with sorrow. She reached for one of the four sippie-cups next to her.

"Me first!" A tall Asian toddler with shiny black hair jumped in front of Thomas, waving his chubby arms around. A giggle escaped Ava's lips. Minho. He screwed up his face in a pout, jutting out his lip and puffing his cheeks.

"Me first!" He said again. Thomas crossed his arms and glared. Ava grabbed another cup, which was difficult with Newt's arms around her neck. She hesitated briefly, glancing at the drugged liquid inside. It would take away their memories, slowly. For a second she wondered if she shouldn't give it to the children. But no. It was for the better. Most of these children would likely die. But it was for the best.

She handed the cups to Minho and Thomas at the same time. They drank with greed, spilling some onto their shirts. It wasn't the Swipe. It wasn't that strong. They didn't need that yet.

But it would erase their parents from their young minds. Siblings. All family. And of course, their names.

Ava felt a small hand grip onto her finger. The youngest. A little girl with wispy raven hair. Teresa. She looked up with glistening eyes and a quivering lip.

"Oh, what's wrong?" Ava whispered, playing with the girl's hair. She tightened her grip and balled her other hand into a fist.

"Please tell me what's bothering you," Ava said smoothly. Minho and Thomas were play wrestling now. Newt was watching the girl with interest. Teresa squinted her eyes. She was trying not to cry.

"I miss my bwothow!" She finally squeaked with a slight lisp. Tears burst from her eyes and she angrily tried to wipe them away. Ava stiffened. She didn't know how to comfort children. Not sincerely.

Newt's eyes widened at seeing the other child crying. He slid off of Ava's lap and took Teresa's hand in his. She gasped, looking at him.

"I'll be your brother," He said softly. He was crying too. Teresa smiled and hugged him. The other kids took notice and stopped fighting. Thomas jumped into the huddle.

"I'll be your brother too!" He laughed, hugging the child. Minho looked shocked. Then he balled his fists.

"What about me! I want a brother!" He stomped. The other children grabbed him and pulled him into the group hug. He squirmed, than gave in.

"We can all be bwothows!" Teresa giggled. Ava looked on with pride and an unusual feeling. Love?

Her heart throbbed for the children. But it was for the best. And she never should have allowed herself to get this close to them. And in a few years they would need to be separated. Two of them would start their work here. And the other two would be prepped for the trials.

But for now, she would watch over them. And protect them. Maybe even learn from them.

Soon, the kids were all playing together. Ava watched them for hours.

"I'm tired," Teresa yawned at one point.

"Me too!" Minho chimed in. Thomas just nodded and Newt smiled. He made everyone lie down on the carpet, before taking his place in the middle.

Teresa sniffed, wiping her eyes. To everyone's surprise, Minho placed an arm around her.

Ava watched as the kids slowly began to fall asleep. She was about to stand up when Thomas' eyes blinked open.

"Story?" He asked. Ava smiled.

She went to sit near the pile of toddlers and placed a blanket over them.

"Once upon a time there four beautiful children who all loved each other very much," She whispered. Newt smiled and mumbled something in his sleep.

"And together they would help save the world. But first," Ava ran a hand along each child's face. "First they would go through a lot of different obstacles.

"Some of them would be brilliant scientists, and some would live in a wonderful meadow surrounded by a huge castle. They would slay the dragons in the castle, and free the people. Or they would be doctors, and create entire worlds from nothing."

The children stared at her with wide eyes.

"Like magic?" Minho yawned.

Ava smiled sadly, tucking his wriggling body further into the blanket.

"Yes. Like magic," She whispered. Then she stood up and turned quickly. Crying was not an issue for Ava Paige. She had forgotten how to cry a long time ago. But all the same, her heart trembled in its stone case.

"Are you sad?" Newt asked softly. Ava shook her head. She stared into the brown eyes that looked at her in concern.

"You sound sad," Thomas said. Newt nodded in agreement. Ava smiled nervously.

"No dears, I'm not."

"Do you want a bwothow too?" Teresa piped up. Ava bit her lip.

"Thank you but I'm not-"

"Sometimes I get sad. But then I hug myself," Minho said suddenly, looking down. Ava froze, feeling a wetness behind her eyes that she hadn't felt in years. She gritted her teeth against the grief that washed over her.

The she felt hands wrapping around her legs. Newt hugged her tightly and soon she was in a pile of toddlers. She stroked their heads as they all fell asleep together.

Beautiful, precious children.

* * *

 **Please review! Tell me what you think! I already have the next chapter written out, but I want this story to be yours just as much as mine. So please, please request one-shots! I will do everything except slash (sorry!). But heavy bromance is definitely allowed!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	2. Drinking By the Fire

**Hi guys! Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy, because I had loads of fun writing it! ;)**

 **Reviews:**

 **NorangeKat722: Bromance indeed, I think you'll like this!**

 **Sydney: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! And I know what you mean, I'm constantly looking for SickFics. I'll definitely try to write that for either next chapter or the one after. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **fadingshadowss: Thanks for the compliments! I'm super happy you like this! Also, for your idea, is it like a WICKED simulation? Or are they still in the Glade? Or somewhere else entirely? And what happens if they fail? Sorry I just wanted to understand it better! :D**

* * *

The fire roared through the night, painting everyone in shades of red and orange. The boys cheered on the flaming wood with cups of "Gally's brew" held high. Some of them danced, some talked, and some of them simply sat and drank, swaying happily to the singing of their peers. The Gladers were celebrating Thomas becoming keeper of the Runners.

Thomas and Newt were sat near a log, away from the noise.

"Well Tommy, looks like you're a big boy now," Newt grinned. Thomas chuckled.

"Yeah."

"How ya feel?"

"Terrified," Thomas smiled.

"This'll help," Newt handed him a jar full of orange-tinted liquid, holding his own up to his lips. Thomas took it and raised it up.

"What do you shanks think you're doing?" Minho jumped over the log to land beside Thomas. He plucked the jar from his hands and held it out of reach.

"No drinking the night before a run," He chastised. Thomas rolled his eyes. Newt just laughed, chugging the liquid and wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.

"Those things taste like klunk anyway," Thomas sighed wistfully.

"You'll like 'em eventually," Minho smirked. "That is...if you ever get a taste," He tossed his head towards Newt, who was finishing his bottle. Newt scowled.

"Shuck off," He said, chucking his bottle at Minho. Minho caught it and tossed it over his shoulder casually.

"Honestly, I kind of want to see Newt drunk," Thomas grinned. Newt swatted at him.

"Gonna take a lot more than one bottle for that," Newt said proudly, patting his stomach.

"Yeah cause he's British," Minho sniggered. Newt tried to look angry, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Thomas snorted.

"Alright shanks, you wanna go?" Newt jumped on Thomas and wrestled him to the ground. Thomas laughed as Minho joined in. Thomas grabbed at his head and shoved his face into the dirt.

"Hey, hey, hey! Watch the hair!" He yelled. Newt twisted and writhed until he was straddling Thomas. He opened his mouth to say something only to be tackled by Minho, who pinned him. Thomas jumped up, half on top of Minho.

"Uh..." Chuck appeared near the log, carrying a few bottles that he had obviously wanted to offer.

"Hey buddy," Thomas said casually, suddenly very aware of what position they were in.

"I um...I didn't mean to interrupt anything...um...I didn't know..." Chuck rambled, blushing intensely.

"What Chuck?" Minho started, "You look like you just walked in on your parents having—" He stopped. "Oh."

"This is not what it looks like. We were just playing around," Thomas cringed at the sound of his words.

Chuck grew even redder and set down the drinks quickly, scurrying away. The silence went on for about a second, before a snorting sound broke it. Newt's face was screwed up in a smile and he was laughing madly. Slowly, Minho broke down too. Then Thomas. Until they were all laughing like lunatics.

"Poor Chuckie, did you see his face?" Newt gasped for air. He sat back up against the log and absentmindedly grabbed a bottle.

"That's gonna be real fun to explain tomorrow," Thomas smirked. Minho grinned, fussing with his hair and smoothing it up.

"Yeah well, luckily there's still a long way 'till tomorrow," Newt spoke as he downed his second bottle.

"I don't know how you trust those drinks," Minho said, "For all we know, Griever klunk is the main ingredient."

"Wait a second," Thomas interrupted, "Do they actually...you know...klunk?"

Newt and Minho just stared at him.

"Really though! Aren't they mostly made of metal?" Thomas asked frantically.

"You ask too many bloody questions," Newt said. Minho nodded.

"Wait! No! Do they?!"

"I don't know Thomas, we can go ask one tomorrow," Minho smiled. "Maybe that's what the Griever Hole is for."

"Hmm umm hmpf," Newt gurgled through his third drink. Minho nudged Thomas.

"Looks like you might get your wish shank," He chuckled. Newt wiped at his eyes, then stifled a belch.

"What're you lot staring at?" He demanded.

"Nothing," Minho said with a sly expression. "Just wanted to know if you wanted to go back to the homestead."

Minho stood up, along with Thomas. Newt stared dumbly at them for a second, before a hint of annoyance registered in his eyes.

"I can't," He mumbled.

"What was that?" Thomas teased.

"I said I bloody can't," He huffed. Minho and Thomas snorted. Newt held up his arms.

"Carry me!" He slurred. Still laughing, his friends hauled him up and supported him on either side.

"I love you shanks," He smirked. Minho and Thomas didn't hesitate.

"You too."

* * *

 **This was very fun to write! Please review and suggest! Happy Holidays!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	3. Thomas Takes a Tumble

**Yay for SickFics! This was requested by Sydney!**

 **Reviews:**

 **angelcarstairs4679: Thanks! I'm glad you liked those chapters, and yeah, poor shank! XD**

 **fadingshadowss: It's fine, I just wanted to be sure. :) I got it now and that will be up next chapter! Keep reading! Glad you like it so far!**

 **Sydney: Ha! So true! Thanks so much, I'm happy you like this! This is for you, please tell me how I did!**

* * *

 _Zoom!_

 _Screech!_

"Come on shank! Keep up!"

Thomas panted as he chased after Minho through the maze. The walls flew past in a green and gray blur as he pumped his legs as hard as he could.

"I'm...trying!" He rasped.

"Well try harder!" Minho called back, not slowing. They had been running nonstop for hours and Thomas couldn't seem to find any air. Painful pressure built up in his side as he gasped for oxygen.

The sun heated his exhausted body, but his arms were too fatigued to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. After an eternity, Minho skidded to a stop. Thomas rammed into him and collapsed to the floor, fanning himself.

"Finally!" He breathed.

"Snack time," Minho grinned, sitting down near Thomas. Both boys pulled out their packs and spread out their lunches, a few plain sandwiches, apples, and oranges, packed by Newt earlier that morning. Thomas watched as Minho scarfed down his food.

Thomas raised an apple to his lips, but he found himself slightly revolted by it. Minho had now noticed and raised an eyebrow.

"You're not hungry? How can you not be hungry?" He asked incredulously.

Thomas shrugged and took a half hearted bite out of his apple. Nausea slammed into his stomach like rock. He closed his eyes until it passed.

"You okay?" Minho placed a hand on his shoulder. Thomas cracked his eyes open and offered a weak smile.

"Yeah. I'm fine," He chuckled nervously, "Why? You worried about me?"

Minho snorted.

"No. Just don't wanna have to carry your shank butt back to the Glade."

Thomas faked a laugh. He had been feeling off all morning, but had shrugged it off as being tired.

The break ended too quickly and Thomas was shakily back on his feet. The sun steadily went down, which seemed to help, and soon it was time to head back.

Thomas fell further and further behind, feeling his face get uncomfortably hot while his body only felt cold. They were the last runners out, and relief washed over Thomas as the doors closed behind him.

Newt was waiting for them at the entrance, patiently sitting in the grass. He smiled when he saw them.

"It's about time," He said.

"How long you been there?" Minho asked.

"An hour or so. And I was getting right bored too," Newt grinned.

"Sorry to inconvenience you," Minho rolled his eyes, smirking. "You want to come to the map room with us?"

"Sure."

Newt stood up and gave Thomas an odd look.

"You alright shuck-face?"

Thomas barely managed a nod. He was finding it very hard to stand, and he was too breathless for words.

"Tommy?" Newt limped closer.

"Mm...fine..." Thomas slurred. The world tipped and he felt himself swaying.

"Bloody h— Minho grab him!" Newt shouted as the world went dark.

* * *

Minho rushed forward to catch Thomas as he fell. He grunted with the effort, slinging Thomas' arm over his shoulder. Newt jumped forward and took his other arm.

"We need the medjacks!" Newt yelled to an empty Glade.

"He's burning up," Minho said shrilly. Waves of heat poured off Thomas' skin and a thin layer of sweat glistened off his face.

"Come on," Newt said urgently. Together they began hauling Thomas towards the Homestead. Newt winced at every step, but said nothing.

"When did this start?" Newt finally demanded. Minho swallowed hard. Thomas had been acting off in the maze. He should have known there was something wrong. He should've known! How had he gone all day without noticing!?

"I don't know!" He said helplessly, "In the maze I guess!"

"And you didn't bloody do anything!?" Newt yelled. The pain in his leg seemed to flare up along with his anger. He knew it wasn't Minho's fault that Tommy was sick, but the anger helped push away his fear. And he needed that, because if he allowed himself to feel scared he worried that he might sit down and start crying.

"I didn't know!" Minho yelled back. A weak groan came from Thomas.

"Bb...quiet..." He said hoarsely. Both Minho and Newt nearly dropped him in surprise.

"Thomas! Are you okay? How do you feel? What's the matter with you, you idiot! Why didn't you shucking tell us you're sick!" Minho fired off questions like his life depended on it.

"Sor...eee..." Thomas muttered deliriously.

"It's alright slint-head, don't talk. You'll only feel worse," Newt sighed. They reached the Homestead and Clint and Jeff took Thomas upstairs.

"Well?" Minho blurted after waiting for nearly twenty minutes, "What's wrong with him?"

"Just a little bug, plus some overheating. He should be fine in a few days," Clint said.

"Alright, thanks. You guys can go," Newt dismissed them and went to sit on the floor near Thomas. Minho joined him.

"I should've noticed," Minho murmured sadly. Newt gazed at Thomas' pallid face. He'd slipped back into unconsciousness.

"It's no one's fault," He sighed. "Other than maybe his own. Shank gave me a bloody heart attack."

Minho managed a dry smile.

"Yeah. Think he learned his lesson?" Minho asked, looking up at Thomas with a nervous smirk.

"Not at all. But that's what we're for."

"Knocking some sense into him?" Minho laughed. Newt smiled.

"That. And being here for him."

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! Please review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	4. Well Done, You

**This was a very creative request by fadingshadowss and I had loads of fun with it. It's longer than usual. Enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **smileyface I am: Hey, that's one of my favorite songs! I'm not sure if I'll be able to do your request, since I have no experience writing that kind of thing. But I'll try it and if I like how it turns out then it'll be posted next chapter. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Property of W.C.K.D: Glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing! Keep reading!**

 **Sydney: Thanks! I loved writing it, and if I get time, I might continue it. Maybe in a later chapter or something. I'm glad you enjoy this story, and thanks for the compliment! Made my day!**

 **fadingshadowss: Thanks! This is for you, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed making this, sorry it took so long!**

* * *

Darkness blurred into weak daylight as Thomas, Newt, and Minho opened their eyes. They had been recruited into WICKED a month ago, and the scientists had been testing them ever since. They said their skills could save the world. That together, they would be part of something much bigger than themselves.

They hadn't been outside in that entire time, so it came as a surprise to find themselves suddenly out in the wild. But it wasn't the wild, not quite. There as open air above them, sky, but they were trapped by towering gray walls on either side. The walls snaked off in different directions. A maze.

"Where are we?" Newt asked hoarsely. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there.

"Maybe it's another test?" Thomas suggested. Minho barked a harsh laugh.

"Yeah. Or maybe they kicked us out of their labs for being idiots."

His words resonated for a second. Thomas stood up.

"Whatever this is, we need to get out of here."

"He's right, I'm getting a bad feeling about this," Newt agreed. Minho begrudgingly stood. He eyed the walls.

"This way. We keep to the right until we hit a dead end," He commanded. Thomas and Newt nodded. Minho sighed and started walking. His eyes darted around as he moved, memorizing every crevice in the rock. Every detail in the moss covered ground. He could tell this place was huge, and he did not want to get lost.

It was getting cold, and the boys shivered as they went, occasionally jogging.

"This is stupid. Let's just run it or something," Thomas said.

"That's a great idea, if you want to spend the bloody night here. _Lost_ ," Newt rolled his eyes.

"They wouldn't just leave us out here, would they?" Thomas muttered.

"Probably. Besides, they have hundreds of other kids to test out. Like new toys," Minho answered.

"Hey! They're doing good! And none of us have been hurt! We've all been cared for!" Thomas yelled.

"I don't trust them either. Feels wrong," Newt joined in.

"Well if this is a test, then they can probably hear us."

"Fine by me," Minho growled.

"Wait!" Newt stopped walking. "Shut up! Listen."

They listened. Everyone stopped walking. In the newfound silence, it was unmistakable.

Click.

Click.

Whirr!

It sounded machine-like, buzzing and pulsing and ticking like a clock. And whatever it was, it was very close.

"That must be where we're trying to go. I told you it was a test!" Thomas said, "Let's go."

Newt and Minho didn't question him. Tired and hungry and annoyed, all three boys broke into a run. Around the left. Backtrack to the right!

Click!

Click!

WHIIIIRRRR!

The noises grew louder. Another right. Through a path covered in ooze. And finally, there. They froze. There was no exit. There was no computer. Muttered curses escaped lips.

A monster, with a sloshing, bulbous fleshy body, stood in front of them. It had tiny, shriveled eyes at the front of its face, and long metallic arms that looked painfully, almost randomly, placed. Stingers and needles bristled on it's arms. It roared at them, sending globs of slime onto the boys' faces.

"Run!" Thomas screamed redundantly. Minho turned and sprinted away. Thomas and Newt followed, but he was obviously much faster than them. The other two were nearly matched in speed.

The monster ran for them, dragging its body towards them. A word smashed into Thomas' head as he ran. _Griever._ He'd never heard it before, but he knew somehow that this was the creature's name.

He noticed Newt and Minho stumble slightly and knew they'd had the same experience. The griever screamed at them, gears grinding noisily. It jumped onto the wall and skittered in front of them, jumping off to block their path.

Minho skidded to a stop, nearly falling over in the process. The griever pounced, pinning him down. Its weight took his breath away. He gasped, struggling in its hold. He saw a needle coming towards him.

"Minho get ready to run!" Thomas barreled into the griever, shoulder first. He bounced off with a stunned look on his face. The griever turned to look at him and Newt slid at Minho's side. He grabbed a slimy arm and pulled up, grunting from the effort. The griever wailed, and Newt felt something sticky trickle out of his eardrum. He shoved the arm away and dodged a second one, grabbing Minho and running out of the way.

But now it was on Thomas. It reared up and flopped back down, swiping its arms at Thomas. They connected, and he flew into the wall. He groaned.

"Tommy!" Newt yelled. Minho ran in again, his every breath sending painful pinpricks down his injured ribcage. They were in real danger, this wasn't a test. Thomas held up his arms weakly, shielding himself as the griever head butted him. He blinked away dark spots. It roared again and all sound fell away. Suddenly, Minho and Newt were at his side. Newt reached up and grabbed its head, his hands sinking into the gooey flesh. The griever pulled back, then lunged, bucking Newt off. He landed in a heap on his back. Now it focused back on Minho and Thomas.

It snarled, moving side to side like a snake. Minho punched its eyes. Thomas grabbed the leg that had been about to rip through his chest. He wheezed.

"Pull!" He shouted. Minho understood the command and began to help him pull the leg out of its socket. Newt was up again and distracted the griever while they worked. The leg slipped out with surprising ease. And now they had a weapon. Minho grabbed it from Thomas' hands and held it up like a sword.

The griever came closer, not understanding what had happened. Newt dived underneath it huddled next to Minho, who plunged the leg into the griever's squishy head. It exploded into a goo, like a popped water balloon. The creature swayed, and Minho struck it again, in its chest and sides and stomach.

With a garbled, mechanical scream, the griever sank to the ground. Headless and dead. The boys trembled in shock, covered with bits of sludge and slippery slime.

"We've done it?" Newt whispered. Suddenly the walls receded and the griever disintegrated. Within a blink, they were in a sterile white room. A speaker rang out.

"Well done. You have completed your final test. Thomas has been chosen to be a creator. Minho and Newt have been selected for the trials. None of you will remember your time together. Begin the swipe!" Ava's voice commanded.

A mist began to fill the room and everything went dark.

* * *

 **And there you have it! I've been working on my action scenes, what do you guys think? Please review! Oh! And does anyone know where I got the title from? Hint: big hands. ;)**

 **Wolf Out...**


	5. Till The Gone

**Just something quick and short. Hope you guys enjoy! I randomly thought of this and wrote it down, so it's not the absolute best.**

 **Reviews:**

 **smileyface I am: Thanks! I would be that person too! Glad you like the story! Thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

Newt walked slowly through the barricaded streets of the Crank Palace. Pain shredded his insides. Tommy. The word repeated in his head like a mantra.

Tommy. Tommy. Tommy.

He hadn't read it. Obviously he hadn't read the note. That, or he'd ignored it. Newt clutched at his hair furiously. It couldn't be ignored. Not this...this _monster_ in his brain. He could feel it. Slinking and flattening itself into every crevice of his brain, filling into it like clay in a mold.

Sometimes it would speak to him. Sometimes it would scream and spit and laugh and spite him.

 _He's not your friend...he never was..._

"Yes he is!" Newt muttered.

 _He'll watch as you live on...he'll laugh as you get uglier and crazier...then he'll cry as you rip off his flesh..._

"Stop it! Shut up! Please just shut up!" Newt yelled.

And yet he knew the voice was right. He knew it the second he had sent Tommy away. He was going to live with this pain forever. Through the rubble he saw something. A figure flashing by.

 _Prey_

 _Hunt_

 _Kill_

Something in his legs twitched and he was running. Running and diving and vaulting over piles of rotting rubbish. Saliva swirled in his mouth, frothing down his chin in yellow specks. There it was! Get it!

He sped up, frantically pouncing on a broken old car and leaping off. He collided with the figure and together they rolled in the dirt.

Newt gasped for breath, the voice quieter now. Horrified, he looked down at the girl he'd tackled.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," He despaired. She smiled ecstatically.

"Don't be. We're all cranks here," She giggled. Newt stared. She was pale, with cuts and purple bruises all over her arms and face. Her hair was dirty, impossible to tell what color it was, but there was a tiny garland of peeled sticks that resembled a crown.

She stared back, with wide, murky green eyes that held at least a small hint of sanity.

"So, who are you?" She chirped, and Newt realized he was still straddling her. He quickly scooted away and hid his blush.

"Newt."

"Weird name. Are you weird too?"

"Um..."

"I'm Meg, by the way," She said, not bothering to hear the answer to her question. Newt grimaced, overly aware of the silence that stretched on. His mind raced. He should say something. But what?

"Sorry for attacking you," He said dumbly. She laughed.

"It's fine. I quite liked it actually," She waved a hand casually.

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No wait," Newt spoke, "...I liked it too."

Meg smiled dangerously. She inched closer to Newt, who found himself getting closer too. Suddenly he saw something flicker in her eyes. Sadness seemed to wash away the color from her face.

"You know there is no cure, right?" She whispered through bleeding lips.

"Yeah."

"We're cranks. We're crazy, horrible cranks. But you know what the upside is?"

"What?" Newt breathed in her scent. She stunk, but to him it was wonderful.

"There is no society here. No rules. And...time doesn't really apply either."

Newt found himself forgetting his friends. He remembered a boy. A promise? A friend. But he suddenly couldn't remember a name, or exactly what he looked like. Something inside him switched on, and he found himself unable to control himself.

"Yeah. Which means we can do this," He drawled, roughly grabbing Meg and yanking her close. She made a sound resembling a purr, and pressed her gored face to his. They kissed. Newt watched in fascination as his body locked lips with this crank girl.

Was love possible here? Here in this place full of insane cannibals? Was it real?

They pulled away and Newt was in control again. He breathed heavily.

"Love me 'till the Gone?" She pleaded, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. Newt hesitated just long enough to smile sadly.

"'Till the Gone," He answered.

* * *

 **Again, just something I thought up. Hope you liked it! Keep those suggestions coming!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	6. Phase Three

**Hello dearies! It's been a while, I know. Sorry about that, but I've been in the middle of a move. Anyway, I really like this chapter and I hope you guys do too!**

 **Reviews:**

 **AsgardianGrizzly: Thanks! I really like your idea, but it may be another few chapters before I can get it up, since this chapter is already Minho whump centric. But on that note, I think you'll enjoy this very much! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Don'tTrustTheBarrels: Thank you! Thanks for sending a request, I'll see what I can do. Enjoy the story!**

 **Sydney: You're very welcome. Ha, yes the interview was the one with the animated interviewer! One of my favorites! Glad you like the story!**

 **fadingshadowss: Thank you! Cool idea, very original. I'll definitely try to use it in here somewhere!**

 **Guest: Thank you! Glad you liked it!**

* * *

Minho sat in a chair, strapped down at his wrists and ankles. Anger emanated from his very being. The air vibrated with his hatred. In front of him stood a smug looking man in a lab coat. Lincoln. He pointed to a whiteboard where he'd written eight names.

Thomas, Newt, Frypan, Aris, Harriet, Sonya, Teresa and Brenda.

Minho gritted his teeth. He'd been there for nearly half an hour.

"How many shucking times do I have to tell you! I won't choose!" He screamed.

"You will choose or everyone on this list will perish," Lincoln recited, as if reading from a script.

"You have five minutes left to decide."

Minho stared, picturing every way that he might hurt Lincoln. His breathing grew ragged, like a wild animal's, and his eyes darted everywhere at once. There was no escape.

There was no escape!

"I. Will. Not. Choose."

Lincoln only pressed his lips into a thin line, annoyed. Minho threw his body forward. The chair scooted forward half a centimeter. His bonds bit into his skin. A roar erupted from deep inside his throat.

"Let me go! Let me out of this shucking room you sadistic, klunk-for-brains, murders!" Minho shrieked. He gasped for breath, chest heaving painfully.

"Three minutes," Lincoln droned.

"Rat man! I know you can hear me! Get down here now!" He lunged forward again. The chair teetered. He snarled and flung his head around. Something snapped inside him.

"Please! Don't make me choose!" Minho's voice cracked. His head slumped down and his shoulders sagged. Each and every muscle quivered and trembled. A sob racked his body.

"Don't make me choose..." he rasped.

"One minute," Lincoln reminded, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Please..." Minho loathed the tears that fell from his eyes. His strength was gone. He was broken. And now his friends would all die. Maybe it would be better to choose one to save...

"You're sick! All of you...you're disgusting!" Minho wept. Helplessness slammed into him.

"Fifteen seconds."

"I can't...Please...I..." He choked on tears. He trembled. He felt so tired, so very tired.

"Five seconds."

Minho managed to raise his headed slightly. He set his jaw.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered.

"Final answer?"

Minho stayed silent; shook his head. Lincoln walked closer, footsteps echoing in the bare room. His slimy hands found Minho's chin and squeezed.

"Congratulations, you've completed the third trial. You will be escorted into the communal room shortly," Lincoln smiled with no emotion, and left the room. A moment later, Minho's bonds became undone. He practically fell out of the chair, slumping down to the floor.

He lay on his back and gasped, eyes wide. His mind shut down. Pain drummed in his temples.

His eyes found a camera, perched in the ceiling like a vulture. He focused on drawing his finger in a line along his neck.

"I will end you," He whispered.

"That's a promise."

* * *

 **I know it's short, but I quite like it! Please review! Oh! On a completely unrelated note, has anyone gone to see Deadpool yet? You really should. It's amazing!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	7. Hope Falls

**Hey guys! So, my last chappie didn't seem to be super satisfactory, but I definitely think this is better! Enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **The Maze Writer: Yeah, I guess it wasn't my best work. Sorry you didn't enjoy it as much, hopefully this'll be better! Thanks for telling me, I always appreciate feedback!**

 **fadingshadowss: Thanks! Yeah, I absolutely love Minho! Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

The Glade buzzed with activity. It was early in the morning, and the sun had barely stepped out of bed. Most of the boys should have been sleeping, or at least just beginning to stir. But not on that day.

It was the second attempt to escape, meaning that hope had not yet been snuffed out. Everyone present believed there was still a chance. Maybe even several chances, they just needed to hang on.

They would try to jump down the box hole. The boys had assembled a search party, meant to find the way out, but not to actually leave.

Newt, Minho, Alby, and Jace.

Jace was the one who'd suggested the idea, thus dubbed the leader of the mission. Newt fidgeted as he was strapped to a wonky cranking device, meant to lower them into the hole.

"Scared shank?" Minho grinned, giddy. He practically dived into his harness.

"Shut up."

"No, it's good to be scared. I know I am," Alby smiled weakly.

"It's fine. We've all seen the box come up and leave. It probably runs on tracks and pulleys embedded into the shaft walls, meaning that as long as we steer clear of those, we'll be okay," Jace said confidently.

"What happens if we touch the walls?" Newt asked.

"I don't know. We could get tangled up in the hooks and such, or set off an alarm to the creators. Either way, watch yourself as you go."

Minho bit his lip, bouncing on his heels.

"Do you guys think this'll really be it?" He whispered so that the accumulating crowd wouldn't hear his uncertainty.

"Only one way to find out," Jace smiled, walking up to the edge of the box hole. The metal doors opened and the box labored up the shaft, baring supplies. It was quickly picked clean and the goods discarded without interest. For once, everyone was waiting for the departure of the box, and not the arrival.

The Gladers watched it slowly lumber down, and a few builders worked to keep the hole open.

"Good luck slint-heads," Gally flashed a thumbs up. Alby nodded in acknowledgement.

"Let's go!" Jace and Minho said in unison.

Several goodbyes and good lucks exchanged lips as the group dangled off the lip of the hole. Minho let go first, then Jace and Alby, and finally Newt.

Darkness governed the hole, thick and suffocating. The boys clutched onto their ropes, trying to stay in the center.

"Lower!" Jace screamed up. The ropes began descending a few feet.

"I don't like this," Alby muttered.

"Bloody terrified," Newt murmured under his breath.

"Can you see anything?" Minho called down to Jace. A match danced in his fingers, refusing to light. "Wish we had flashlights..."

"I think so...I can't really tell from here," Jace started, "LOWER!"

The ropes again dropped about a foot.

Jace exhaled loudly.

"Lower than that shanks!"

Gally's face appeared at the top of the hole.

"The ropes aren't long enough!" He cried.

"Great!" Minho fumed, "What now?"

"I guess we try again next week," Alby sighed, sounding slightly relieved.

"Seriously?" Newt huffed.

"Wait, I think I can still get down," Jace said. He grabbed high on his rope and pulled himself up until he was level with the others.

He began tossing his body back and forth, swinging.

"What are you doing?" Newt called.

"Grab me," Jace yelled. He rammed into Minho and Newt, who both clutched at his arms and clothes.

He offered a crazed smile.

"Alby! Alby! Cut the rope shuck-face!"

"He's bloody lost it," Newt muttered.

"What are you going to do?" Minho asked incredulously.

"Alby just do it! Trust me!"

Alby shook his head, but swung over anyway. He grabbed a small blade out of his pocket and began cutting Jace's rope.

"If you have a plan, now would be the time to share!" Alby snarled.

"You guys hold my rope so I can get closer. No big deal. Just don't let go," Jace breathed heavily, holding on tightly to Minho and Newt.

Newt panted, catching Jace's rope as it fell. Minho and Alby did the same and Jace released his grip. The rope slipped slightly, and he yelped.

"I said don't let go!" He shouted.

"Just go," Minho called out. His arms trembled with the effort.

They lowered the rope carefully. Jace leaned down as far as he could, squinting in the darkness. He heard a clinking sound, almost like a griever.

"I think there might be something here! Just a few feet more..." He said.

"Hurry up! Don't know how much longer we can hold you!" Alby grunted.

Jace rolled his eyes, leaning even further down. Something glinted in the shaft near the wall. The sounds became louder, almost like blades being sharpened. He reached out a hand to touch the wall.

He blinked and his entire hand was torn from his wrist in a matter of seconds. Blood spurted out onto his face and ran down his arm. He hadn't even seen it happen, but the pain smashed into him then.

"PULL ME UP!" He screamed.

Newt almost dropped the rope. It flew up through their hands as they pulled frantically.

Jace's screams rang out in Minho's ears. He watched as the boy's entire lower half vanished. Bleeding innards fell out and down the shaft. The stench of blood filled the air.

"HELP ME!" Jace's face contorted in twisted anger.

The Gladers above were screaming now, confused and afraid as the shaft was filled with terrified shrieking. Alby pulled harder and harder, faster and faster. Jace's eyes bulged from his skull. Scraping, grinding noises swelled in a concerto of death. Hearts were heard thumping, beating wildly, but only three. Only three.

"Please..." A low croak, nearly inaudible. Black hair was made darker still by the crimson that was spurting, shooting out in every direction.

Everyone felt his pain, ricocheting off the walls like an echo. His stomach was gone. Nothing left but his chest and shoulders and head. Somehow he was still alive, on the brink of death but not quite there. And that was the worst part. It seemed as if whatever devil, whatever machine, whatever sick human was controlling this had meant for him to go as slowly and painfully as possible.

Someone threw up, the stench mingled with the blood.

Newt's eyes watered. Someone was physically doing this. Someone was enjoying the mess of crimson splattered teens trying to save their friend, trying to save their little world.

The screaming ended. Just hoarse breathing. Then that ended too. Still they pulled, hoping against hope, screaming his name.

"JACE! Hang on! Please just hang on!"

The trio became aware of their own ascent. They were being hauled back up into the taunting brightness of early morning. And, at the end of the rope that they all had in a death-grip, came Jace.

Half of him.

They laid him out on the grass, already wilting and choked with his insides. Blue veins snaked up and down his neck, cold.

People murmured, moved back, came closer, offered condolences. The world was suffocating. Minho sank to his knees, frozen in horror. Alby and Newt did the same.

It was surreal. Anyone of them might've laughed, it looked like a bad Halloween costume. Like someone had taken a red paint bucket and spilled it on the boy in front of them. But the corpse, the frozen face of Jace, on the ground represented something more.

They were not safe. The creators were gods. They could do anything they wanted with a single command. Summon life. Initiate death.

And sit back with their popcorn and chuckle at the idiots who allowed themselves to have hope.

One by one, everyone kneeled down.

Everyone felt the darkness, breathed it in, permeating into the very quick of their beings. Thick black oil slipping over their necks, heads, drowning them.

The sun shone defiantly bright, the day was blue and warm and beautiful. Animals chattered near the bloodhouse, chomping on plants or simply tanning in the grass. Colorful flowers grew in cheery arrays all around, dancing in the pleasant breeze.

The second Glader had just died.

And hope had been pummeled and crushed.

* * *

 **So, tell me what you think! This one's definitely one of the longer ones. Jace is my OC, so I guess maybe in the future your requests could contain OCs and whatever original stuff you want, but I'd need to figure that all out first.**

 **Wolf Out...**


	8. Happy New Year

**I do not know why I accidently make these so sad. It just happens sometimes...all the times...**

 **Reviews:**

 **Isabelle Hutcherson: Thank you! But I think this one is probably sadder...oops... ;)**

 **angelcarstairs4679: Ha! So true! I hadn't thought of that!**

 **The Maze Writer: Thanks! And yeah, that was the goal! Glad I was able to make it better for you!**

 **thepandabella: Thank you! I'm happy you liked it! Always glad to write a Minho chappie! I love him!**

* * *

The young child toddled through the mass of adults. He'd left the play area to the slouching, sleepy children already nodding off.

It was the best day of the year.

The New Year's Eve party.

His parents threw one every year and invited the entire block. He smiled, parking himself at the snack table. He grabbed a fistful of strawberries and dunked his entire hand into the chocolate fountain. The hot liquid captivated him, running down his arm.

Then he pulled it back and stuffed the fruit into his mouth. His other arm gravitated towards the cheese fondue, and soon he was happily scarfing down everything in sight.

A punch bowl glittered in the orange lamplight. He drank straight from the giant spoon, noticing an odd burning feeling in his throat. It didn't quite taste like how he remembered fruit punch to be.

"Oh my goodness!" A feminine voice squealed. His older sister, Nari, grabbed onto the nearest adult.

"Mom! Look what Chucky's doing!"

Chuck's mom gasped and hauled him up and away from the table.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to come over here?" She sighed, smiling, "Stay upstairs with the other kids. Okay?"

"Why?" Chuck hiccupped, giggling.

"Because some of these things aren't for kids," His mom scolded lightly.

Chuck nodded, lowering his head in shame. He didn't understand why the adults were allowed to have as much as they wanted and he wasn't, but he didn't mind it too much.

"Sorry mommy," He said.

She kissed his cheek and set him back down, ruffling his curls. Chuck wandered back towards the stairs. The upstairs was quieter, and he avoided the play room entirely. He walked into his room instead and gasped.

Brown, mousy hair peeked out from under his covers. Chuck approached it wearily. The hair was attached to a tanned, chubby face. It was a girl. And Chuck's worst enemy.

"Abby..." He poked the girl uncertainly.

"Abby wake up! This is my bed!"

Hazel eyes fluttered open.

"Hi Chucky!"

"Get off my bed!" Chuck groaned, stomping his feet. Abby smiled, revealing two missing teeth.

"It's not comfy in the other room!"

"Get off Abby!"

Abby grabbed Chuck's hand and forced him to sit on the bed.

"I will if you kiss me!" She giggled and bulged her eyes. Chuck shook his head furiously, cheeks reddening.

"But I don't like you."

"That's okay. I like you!" Abby winked clumsily.

Chuck crossed his arms. He did not like Abby. At all. No matter what anyone said.

"Get off my bed!" He demanded.

"Fine," Abby screwed up her face and slapped Chuck on his shoulder. She got off the bed and went to slouch in the window seat. Chuck stared past her and out the window.

It was suddenly getting hotter in the room. Something was glowing in the night.

Chuck vaguely heard the adults cheering downstairs.

"Ten!"

The walls lit up with a yellow glow.

"Nine!"

The thing outside was becoming larger, pulsing and igniting.

"Eight!"

Abby squeaked and leaped back onto the bed, hugging Chuck fearfully.

"Seven!"

The room was becoming uncomfortably hot now, and Chuck was having a hard time breathing.

"Six!"

"Come on Abby!" Chuck grabbed the girl and ran for the stairs. A few kids in the playroom were starting to stir, groaning.

"Five!"

The kids ran down the stairs, panting and screaming. Tears ran down Abby's face.

Less people were counting down. Adults were beginning to panic.

"Get to the basement!" Chuck's mom grabbed him and Abby and shoved them into the basement.

"I need to find your dad! Stay here Chucky!" She cried.

"No!" Chuck reached for her.

"I love you! I'll be right there!"

Chuck's face exploded into tears. He and Abby clung to each other tightly, sobbing in the dark. He finished the countdown in his mind.

 _Four..._

 _Three..._

 _Two..._

The entire house rocked. Heat burst out in every direction. Screams ricocheted off the walls as an explosion bloodied Chuck's ears.

He screamed, feeling as if his skin was on fire. Abby's grip tightened painfully. They were thrown into a wall, where they huddled and shrieked as everything shook.

 _One..._

Then everything went silent. Chuck lifted his head to look around at the rubble. His heart twisted with the stillness. He didn't need to get out. He didn't need to look.

He already knew.

A tear ran down his face as Abby squeezed his hand.

They whispered it, together in the blistering blackness:

"Happy New Year."

* * *

 **Quick! Someone suggest something so fluffy that even _I_ can't make it morbid! But yeah, sorry it took a bit longer than usual to update! I can mostly promise that the next one will be here faster, and will be happier. Please review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	9. Bloody Idiot

**Hey guys! So this is a mix between Fluffy 's and MazeRunnerGirl's requests. So enjoy you two! I love the way this turned out.**

 **Reviews:**

 **AsgardianGrizzly: Thanks! Ooh, I love your request. I also tend to be pretty dark. Definitely will happen, soon.**

 **Fluffy: Yeah sorry about that. I tried to sort of incorporate your request into this, along with someone else's, so hopefully you like it! But I'll probably do a more Minewt centric chapter later.**

 **fadingshadowss: Thank you! I'm so glad you like it! Thanks for suggesting, I'll see what I can do. Enjoy the chapter!**

 **AniLovesMe: Thanks! Your review made my day! I'm really happy this is what you were looking for! This chappie might not be as realistic as some of the others though...Anyway, enjoy!**

 **MazeRunnerGirl: Thanks! I used your suggestion, so I hope you enjoy!**

 **angelcarstairs4679: Yeah, this chapter's much more light hearted. Hope you like it!**

* * *

Newt watched as all the keepers filed into the Homestead and took their seats. He looked down at his notes. One of the Gladers, Darwy, had been caught slinking around the animal pens with a knife, and a few days later, Winston found three dead goats in the deadheads.

Darwy sat in the back, shoulder's slouched. His hands had been tied, in case he was dangerous. A punishment needed to be decided on. Alby walked in and sat next to Newt, and Minho sat nearest to the "prisoner", being the strongest and most able to restrain him.

"Order! Order!" Newt called out. Everyone immediately found a seat and quieted down.

"We are gathered to decide on punishment for Darwy of the Sloppers, on the charge of killing three goats," Alby bellowed in his _official voice._

Newt made eye contact with each keeper, and finally Darwy.

"Everyone knows the rules, so go ahead and speak, starting with Gally, then Minho and on."

Gally cleared his throat.

"I want to know what he was doing with three goats in the woods," He started.

 _I assumed we all knew..._

Newt jumped slightly at the voice in his head. Minho. The boys had figured out a week ago that they had some kind of connection, and Minho loved to use it at the worst times. The thing was, Newt couldn't do it back without straining himself, or making very obvious and very concerning facial expressions.

He glared at Minho, who grinned inconspicuously.

 _Three goats. One boy. Must have been a real party, if you know what I mean._

Newt's lip twitched upward. Gally noticed and scowled, pausing his monologue.

"As I was saying," He sneered, "I don't think we can decide on a real punishment without knowing the whole story!"

Newt nodded hurriedly, pretending to write some notes. All thoughts of having a serious Gathering had gone, leaving him with one desire: surviving Minho's torture.

They hadn't told anyone, considering it just another trick from the Creators, one that would expire soon. Newt sighed inwardly, wanting to yell at his friend. But he was sitting too far away.

 _What? I'm just having some fun! This klunk is boring!_

Newt shook his head imperceptibly.

"Minho, it is your turn to speak," He said pointedly.

"Oh! I agree with Gally. He could've been performing some sadistic ritual for all we know," Minho chuckled, running his hand through his hair.

Newt moved his hand, again pretending to write. Another keeper began speaking, but Newt couldn't pay attention.

 _You think my hair is okay? I didn't get to spend as much time on it today, since some shanks called a Gathering._

An instinct to rebut boiled inside Newt.

 _Hey look at how bored Alby is! He's totally thinking about all the aimless walking around that he could be doing instead!_

Newt glanced at Alby, who was resting his head against his hand and staring forward with a "kill me now" expression. He snorted slightly.

 _Seriously though, what does he even do? Give occasional advice to whatever unlucky shank runs into him? Give speeches to himself?_

"Minho shut up," Newt mouthed, trying not to smile. He would definitely look _slightly insane_ if he started cracking up in the middle of a Gathering, for no apparent reason.

 _One day, when I grow up, I want to be just like Princess Alby._

"Minho!" Newt mouthed again, trying not to look odd.

 _And what the shuck is up with Gally's eyebrows? He looks like he's sponsored by Nike or something!_

Newt laughed into his hands, trying to pass it off as a cough. Alby looked at him strangely. Darwy was speaking now, explaining something about feeling trapped as a Slopper and feeling sudden urges to destroy things.

Not a great time to giggle like a maniac.

 _Come on, we all know he'll probably just be put in the slammer for a few days. Is this all really necessary?_

Newt bit his hand. Casually, of course.

 _Mom? Where do baby grievers come from?_

Newt glanced around the room. Only a few more people and then the Gathering would be pretty much over. And he could go clobber Minho.

 _Do you think there are grievers in all endless mazes? Cause I don't remember there being any in IKEA..._

"What is wrong with you?" Newt mouthed again, but Minho ignored him.

"Newt!" Alby nudged him, and he realized everyone was waiting for him to speak.

"Um..." He looked down at the notes that didn't exist.

"Erm...I say Darwy should be sentenced to a week and half of the slammer, followed by banishment, if he doesn't learn...yeah..."

There was a beat of awkward silence, before Alby slowly blinked at him.

"I already said that. Just now."

Newt felt his face go hot.

"Oh...I know...I was just, um, agreeing," He fumbled.

 _Nice save, shank. How long did it take you to think that one up?_

Newt lowered his head as Alby took the reigns, awkwardly trying to save the situation. Minho didn't speak again, and soon the Gathering was over. Newt received plenty of concerned glances as everyone filed out.

Finally it was just him and Minho.

"You're a bloody idiot," Newt said.

"Duly noted."

"Sponsored by Nike...," Newt muttered, laughing a bit, "what is wrong with you?"

Minho grinned.

"Ha! I was proud of that one!"

"I'm sure you were."

"If it makes you feel better, I think it wore off."

Newt sighed in relief, slinging an arm around his friend.

"Finally! Bugging creators were gonna drive me mad."

"Yeah. Those shuck-faces think our lives are some novel or something, and they can throw in whatever they want just because they're the all-powerful authors."

"Hopefully they won't kill us off right before the ending then, I hate when that happens in a story," Newt joked.

"Especially a series," Minho mused.

Newt nodded, laughing slightly at the impossible analogy.

* * *

 ***Sighs* I used to have a fourth wall, but now it's broken and I don't think Walmart or Amazon will have any replacements. Anyway though, I really loved writing this and I hope you guys loved reading it!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	10. The Normality Cure

**Hey! So please go check my profile for an important announcement. I don't have time to write it here because my Internet is literally gone and I'm doing this on my phone!**

 **Reviews:**

 **Smileyface I am: Haha, thanks. I did try to do your request but It didn't come out well, so it probably won't be on here. Sorry! Enjoy the chapter!**

 **thepandabella: Glad you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **fadingshadowss: Thank you! Enjoy the chapter!**

 **Fluffy: Glad you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **MazeRunnerGirl: I'm happy you enjoyed it! Thanks for suggesting it! I can relate, although it's usually me making my friends laugh and them getting annoyed. ;)**

* * *

Dr. Paige wandered through the rainbow painted hallways. Her coat swished out behind her, elongating her shadow into an inhuman shape. She surveyed the corridor before her.

Doors on either side, each painted with stars and spaceships and flowers. Some swelling with the sound of voices within, and others disturbingly quiet. She walked slowly to the left door, peeking through the barred window.

It was dark, too much so to see the room's inhabitant, but not quite enough to miss the several empty syringes and vials. They lay there, discarded amongst other possessions: An empty matchbox; a silver button; and a stuffed bear, head ripped clear off.

Dr. Paige sighed, stroking the bars.

"The patients are in the lounge for snack time," A teenager with black hair and lab coat tapped her on the shoulder.

"Already?" Dr. Paige asked.

"It's three 'o clock," The boy smiled.

Dr. Paige wrinkled her brow.

"Oh. Time must have escaped me."

"That's very easy when the only clocks in the place are in the Employee Lounge."

"Hm...yes. Indeed," Dr. Paige mused. "You've been a great help to me Thomas. You get a promotion."

"I've only worked here a week Dr., I don't think I'm ready..."

"Nonsense. The institution would be empty and deserted were it not for you," Dr. Paige smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Thank you but, isn't that the whole point? To empty this place out and help the people here to get better?"

Dr. Paige startled, blinking rapidly. She nodded and all hints of a smile washed away.

"That's what I meant," She purred. "Now go tend to the patients Thomas, I'm very busy."

Thomas nodded and turned away, an odd feeling bubbling inside him.

"Oh! And Thomas?" Dr. Paige called out.

"Yes Dr.?"

"Don't forget to eat something yourself dear, you're looking sick," She suggested, though to Thomas it sounded like a demand. Shaking it off, he walked to the lounge as quickly as he could.

It was a bright room, full of children and teenagers and even the odd adult. No one noticed his entrance, but everyone turned when he pulled the snack cart out of the closet.

"Thomas!" A taller boy with an English accent greeted him. Thomas smiled. The boy had been there a long time, and yet no one knew his real name. He'd insisted, since he was young, to be called Newt.

"Hello Newt. Time for snack," Thomas said.

"'Bout bloody time the box got here," Newt said, eying the cakes and pastries lined up on the cart.

"Move! This is my cart! I'm the cook! I made all of this with my own hands!" Another boy, who went by Frypan, ranted at Thomas. He shooed him away and began handing out the confections to the other patients. Thomas didn't mind, it just meant less work for him. Though he did make note that Fry still seemed to be having delusions that he was the maker of every morsel of food in the institution.

As the patients got their food, Thomas pulled out his notepad. It still looked like the room was divided into boys and girls. He had tried to diffuse the tension between the groups, but it was as if each side pretended the other didn't exist.

Dr. Paige had told him not to worry about it, and that eventually it would all fix itself. He sighed. Then there were the double doors that led to the medical bay. It was supposed to be always closed to the lounge, but Thomas often only found it locked at night. He made a note to ask Dr. Paige about it later.

His stomach growled. He looked to see that Frypan had finished handing out food and everyone was seated neatly on their respective sides. Thomas grabbed a snack cake from the cart, biting into it.

A feeling of bliss leaked into him. He didn't know how it was possible, but Dr. Paige always seemed capable of creating the most perfect foods. He took another bite, feeling slightly tingly, and even numb in some places.

He walked around the lounge.

Minho burst through the double doors, gasping and panting. The boy side of the room leaped up.

"I saw a griever!" Minho choked, breathing heavily. The boys all began to mutter excitedly. Thomas rubbed his temples. Dr. Paige had left the doors open again. And when she did, Thomas noticed that a few specific members of each gender group where always the ones to go inside. They acted almost as scouters, though often reporting odd tales about monsters made of metal needles.

The med-bay tools and surgical equipment, Thomas guessed.

As the boys reconciled, the girls went about their imaginary work, some even pretending to farm.

Thomas felt a pang of sympathy. He didn't have the keys to the medical bay, but he could at least go in and shoo any other patients out. He stepped through the crowds, into the medical bay.

"Hey! Greenie! Stop!" Newt yelled, along with his friend, Alby.

"You're not a runner!" Minho added.

Thomas smiled at them, hoping they would get better, and closed the doors behind him.

He rarely went inside this part of the institution, finding it slightly frightening. The lights never worked, flickering ominously, and he hated seeing the patients being operated on. Clint and Jeff were the only other employees that he knew of, although the institution was so massive that Thomas figured there must be more.

But even they tended to stay in the bay, preferring the company of their tools and injured patients, then that of other workers.

Thomas wandered through the hall, occasionally calling out random names. No one answered. Of course.

A sound caught his attention. He peeked through a door, and saw Dr. Paige standing over a patient.

It was a boy, Ben, and he was convulsing and screaming. A purplish rash spread from his exposed stomach, where a puncture mark was clear.

"Ben," Dr. Paige smiled, "You have been stung."

She was holding a needle behind her back, empty.

"Please leave the maze, the doors are about to close," She said. Ben stood up and burst through the door, barely missing Thomas. Thomas' heart thumped loudly. What had just happened?

He watched as Dr. Paige wrote something in her notepad.

'Prototype No. 10 - Physical failure : Mental success.'

Thomas gasped as she turned, seeming to look right at him. Thomas ducked down as quickly as he could. He heard her footsteps coming towards the door.

"Thomas? Is that you?" Dr. Paige called out. Thomas stifled a cry, crawling on his hands and knees. He hurried into another room, just as Dr. Paige exploded into the hallway, fully filled syringe in hand.

"Thomas?" She yelled.

Thomas clutched at his chest, hoping she wouldn't come into his room. He couldn't see anything, but was afraid to turn on the lights. After an eternity, her footfalls faded. Thomas breathed, carefully standing up. He switched on the flickering light and froze.

On the floor, was a girl about his age with short cropped hair. She looked up at him with a loopy smile.

"Bliss," she croaked, "Want to try some? Stops the Flare."

Thomas saw the vials of morphine scattered around her.

"You can't be in here," He stuttered.

"Try some Bliss. Stops the Flare."

Thomas stepped back into a shelf. He whirled around to see that it was full of trays. Thomas pulled one out, and stiffened. It was full of colorful pastries, all ready to be filled. Dread rose inside him.

All ready to be filled...but with what?

He looked back at the drugged girl, and saw the boxes labeled with nothing but various versions of pain-killers.

What was happening here? The door opened behind him.

Dr. Paige stepped inside.

"Hello Thomas."

"Dr. Paige!" He leaped backwards, still holding the incriminating tray of delights. "I was just trying to find the other patients that ran in here!"

"I know Thomas. You have nothing to worry about," She smiled. In one hand was a cherry tart.

"Try the food Thomas," She said, "You look sick."

"What are you doing to these people!" Thomas breathed. Dr. Paige chuckled humorlessly.

"Nothing. Just trying to find the perfect cure."

"For what?" Thomas asked, hoping he could keep her talking. A plan was beginning to formulate.

"For the flare, or, in our terms, normality. Can you picture how many new patients I would have if I was to help make humanity a little more...unstable? And get enough addicts," She gestured to the tart, then to the girl, "And you have an entire brigade of slaves. All made up of the ones that society shuns."

"You don't help people...you make things worse," Thomas muttered, hand sliding behind his back. He stepped backwards slightly, prompting Dr. Paige closer.

"Just like they once shunned me. Just like my parents once sent me here to be ogled by doctors and nurses who never let you play! The doctors are all gone now. Purged from existence. I'm the only one left. And soon I'll have many more friends. Too many for the world to ignore. Too many to tuck away into the dark places of the earth and forget about!"

"You don't need to do this!" Thomas shouted. His hands worked feverishly behind his back, trying to open the cardboard flaps.

"I just need to make my formula less...physically obvious, shall we say. And how would you fancy being the next subject?" She lunged closer, about to grab him.

Thomas bit his lip, the flaps opened. He grabbed a syringe, heavy with morphine, and hurled it at Dr. Paige. It stuck in her arm and she withdrew slightly.

Thomas didn't stop, filling her with more and more needles.

Her eyes glossed over. She plucked the first syringe out, inspecting it.

"Very impressive," She told Thomas, blocking the door. "But I overdosed myself already, long ago. It seems as if I've built up an immunity. Now, time for a little experiment."

She grabbed her own syringe, filled with a purple sludge, and injected it into his arm. Thomas felt saw the room blur and spin.

"No..." He slurred.

"You will be the greenie they all already think you are. There are grievers in the maze..." Dr. Paige spoke like a hypnotist. Thomas felt his mind absorbing her words, and pushing out everything else.

"Please..." He tried to say, but the words wouldn't form. He felt as if he were shooting upwards. Metallic clanking sounds ripped through his skull.

"You have been stung Thomas. Please leave the maze."

* * *

 **So there it is. Much longer than usual cause I don't know when I'll have free Internet again. Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	11. Easter Bunny

**HAPPY EASTER! It's Easter today, so I thought I'd take advantage of that and type up this cute little chappie! Enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **Sydney: Thanks! Glad you liked it! I tried to do something a bit different with that chapter and I'm pretty happy with it.**

 **Jessinia: Ooh interesting. If I do end up doing it, I'm not sure it'll be an elevator cause I want to keep this story as realistic as possible, but I'm sure he could find it elsewhere. Thanks for the suggestion!**

 **thepandabella: Thanks for the compliment! I've honestly never written anything from Group B before, or any of those characters, but I can look into it. Thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

Gally slunk around the glade. The moon had just reached its peak in the sky, shining with such gentle ferocity one might've mistaken it for day. Perfect.

He clutched his package tightly, wrinkling the brown paper. He had requested it, like he did every year, from the Box. And like every year, it had come. No one knew what it was. No one could know.

Ever.

Gally didn't usually like to show how much he cared for his fellow Gladers. But sometimes he liked to surprise them, even if they didn't know it was him. He scurried to the edge of the tree line, invisible from the Homestead. Most of the Gladers had huddled there tonight. It was cooler than usual, but Gally found it energizing.

He tore open the paper, carefully hiding the scraps in small holes.

 _Yes._

 _Perfect._

He gazed lovingly at his loot. One hundred white, plastic eggs. And some paint. He got to work immediately. Gally didn't have a brush, nor had the creators provided one, so he dipped his fingers into the colors.

He tried to paint little patterns and designs, but most of the eggs were painted one solid color. He didn't quite have all night. He grinned softly as he worked, a part of him wishing that he'd be recognized for his efforts.

But that would be humiliating. An insult to his reputation, to which he was a slave. So Gally bottled his whims and kept painting until each egg was shiny and perfect and dry. Then came the easy part.

He dug around in the package with rainbow-colored hands. At the bottom, were three small bags of candy, one for every egg. Not all of them were good, in fact, most of them weren't. But he was grateful nonetheless that the creators had spared them simply for his little deed.

He wondered if he'd done this before, in his forgotten life. He figured he must have, for why else would he feel such a strong urge to surprise the Gladers with the treats? Maybe he'd had siblings. Gally wished he had a little sister.

But there were no girls in the Glade and the youngest member, Chuck, was still about thirteen. Older than what Gally wanted. He finished packing the sweets into the eggs and wiped his hands in the grass. Thankfully, the paint was already coming off. He didn't want anyone in the morning finding out what he'd done.

He smiled, standing up with the eggs tucked in his pockets and hands. This was always his favorite part.

With a deep breath, Gally bounded across the emerald grass, dropping eggs as he went. He placed some in Frypan's kitchen, red and orange. The chef's two favorite colors.

Then some in the blood house, away from the greedy animals. He snuck some into a few tree hollows and placed three, very obvious ones near the map room.

Gally grinned. Minho loved chocolate. Then he was running again, careful not to make too much noise. He placed some in the bathrooms and some in the farm. Then he stopped. There was one place left.

He still had about fifteen eggs. With ninja stealth he crept up to the Homestead. Everyone was still sleeping. Good. But he couldn't have long left.

Gally slipped inside, tiptoeing around the snoring boys. He placed seven eggs around the boys, nearest to Newt and Alby. Then he started upstairs, the steps slightly groaning. Someone shifted audibly. Gally froze, heart pounding. His vision focused on Chuck, who was twitching around. He waited with baited breath for any flicker of his eyes. Chuck settled down with a sigh, rolling onto his side.

Gally could have collapsed in relief. He wiped the sweat from his hands and simply arranged the last of the eggs on the steps, scared to climb any higher. He grinned with more elation than he'd felt in a long time. He was done.

Silently wishing everyone a happy Easter, he lay down to sleep on the hard wooden floors of the Homestead.

"What the shuck?!" A startled cry woke most of the Gladers up. Gally opened his eyes wearily. Early morning light filtered in through the crude windows. Alby was pointing to a bright blue egg, complete with a yellow smiley face.

Yes, Gally thought, it's starting!

"Shuck, it happened again," Newt said, looking perplexed. He picked up his own egg, purple with green dots. He opened it up and a tiny chocolate fell out.

Now all the Gladers were joining in, pointing at various eggs with surprise.

"Look! There's some on the steps!" Gally cried out.

"And here!" Another Glader answered his call.

"It's the Easter Bunny!" A high pitched voice rang out. Everyone looked at Chuck, who was holding up an egg like a trophy. Gally snickered. He was still so naïve.

"It must be!" He continued excitedly, "He came!"

"No he didn't," Gally rolled his eyes, "'Cause he doesn't exist. It's just some shank who goes around every year handing out eggs full of klunk."

"Shuck off Gally," Newt said, "Let the greenie have his fun. Just 'cause you don't like Easter doesn't mean you have to bloody ruin it for everyone else."

Alby nodded in agreement.

"Wish whichever one of you it is would speak up though," He addressed the Gladers. They shrugged.

Gally barely concealed his grin. He forced his face into a neutral expression, bouncing on his heels.

"Guess we have to go on an egg hunt too," He said as sarcastically as he could.

"That's perfect!" Chuck shouted. He stood up, eyes glittering with glee. His curls bobbed on his head and Gally's mouth twitched upward.

Everyone looked to Alby and Newt. They both shrugged.

"You heard the kid," Alby said. And with childish excitement the Gladers all bounded outside. Squeals of delight were heard as they uncovered Gally's eggs. Some came back in to snoop around upstairs.

Even Newt joined the fun, though he tried to be nonchalant about it. Gally just sat and enjoyed it. No one ever liked to admit they needed a break, but Gally knew it just the same.

And he had helped them escape for a few hours. He walked out into the sun, rolling a small egg in between his fingers. Alby sidled up beside him.

"Found one," Gally sneered.

Alby chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"If you're just going to stand here and moan you might as well go be useful," He said. Gally sighed dramatically. But Alby winked just before walking away.

"Get to work Easter Bunny."

* * *

 **And that was my first Gally story! Yay! I actually kind of hated Gally in the books. But I liked him more after the movie. Probably cause of Will Poulter! Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed! Happy Easter, and if you don't celebrate Easter, Happy Holiday!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	12. Science

**Hey guys! Since last chapter was all happy and sweet and bunny-related, this one is dark and sad to even it out! Enjoy! The tone is a request by AsgardianGrizzly! Nice and morbid! ;)**

 **Reviews:**

 **angelcarstairs4679: Thanks! Glad you liked it!**

 **thepandabella: Yay, glad you enjoyed! Thank you for reviewing and suggesting!**

 **The Maze Writer: Lol, that's a glitch right? Otherwise, well done on your extreme speed-reading! Happy you like the chapter!**

 **fadingshadowss: Aw me too! People always underestimate Gally's soul! I'm happy you liked it!**

 **MazeRunnerGirl: Cool headcannon, I'll see what I can do. No promises that it'll be fast though because I've never listened to those bands myself, but I know what they are, and so it would require some musical homework on my part. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Science. That's what it was. That's what all of it was.

Ava sat hunched in her office, glaring at nothing while tears carved rivers into her perfect skin.

A computer monitor blinked in front of her, alive with the images of brutal monsters tearing into the flesh of teenagers. Monsters that were Ava's own children. Her creations. Killing and murdering and stinging and discarding the bony, pulpy remains.

All for science.

Ava gritted her teeth, hands closing around a tall bottle of blackish liquid. She raised it unsteadily to her lips, and drank. Everything she'd ever wanted was to be a world-renowned scientist. To save the world. Ever since she was a little girl.

She chuckled, oily bubbles dripping down her chin. She remembered when she was young, and would drape her mother's lab coat around her small body. She had glasses then, big and black and round. And braces.

She was the kid who did not play tag, or catch, or jump rope. She sat on the side, alone with her journal full of theories and sketches for inventions that would never be made.

Alone.

Ava bit her lip. She wasn't alone anymore. She had workers, everywhere. An entire building full of people that knew her name! An entire world that knew her name! And machines, she had millions of beautiful machines! She stroked the computer screen, numb to the tears that soaked the metal. She had friends now.

Janson, was her friend. And Lincoln and everyone else who helped with the trials. All of them were her very best friends. She knew they were, because even after she hit them and screamed at them and made them bleed, they still came back. That was how she knew.

Friends. Yes, company. No longer alone.

She took another sip, hands visibly shaking. Black bags hung under her eyes, heavy on the papery skin that cracked over her face.

She stared at the screen, listening to the screams that emitted from the speakers. The kids.

They were not her friends.

They hated her and spited her and wanted to watch her die. Ava trembled, a sick smile snaking onto her face.

But she was the one watching _them_ die.

All in the name of science.

To save a world that had long since slipped away. Ava tipped her head back, finishing off the burning liquid. She clutched the empty bottle to her chest, rubbing it against her face and neck.

"I'm sorry," She whispered to the glass.

Another scream ripped from the monitor. The grievers were killing this one slower than usual.

Blood painted a deathly scene across the maze floor. She watched it in fascination, tracing invisible patterns with her finger.

She waited desperately for the joy that always accompanied the elixir. For the relief. Instead her pain worsened, weighing down on her like a leaden blanket.

 _They'll appreciate it after._

 _They're halfway through the trials._

 _They'll thank me for it after._

Ava staggered out of her seat, collapsing to the floor. More screams. More screams!

Where were they coming from? Ava clawed at the floor. The bottle rolled away to join its kin.

"Come back!" Ava croaked to it, "Don't leave me yet."

Shrieks of terror echoed in Ava's skull, bouncing around the room. She writhed, scratching at her ears until bloody rivulets adorned her neck. Always the screaming! Always! ALWAYS!

Science! It was for science which made it right! This was right! So why did they hate her!? Why didn't they understand!

Was there something wrong with her that made them hate her? A monster growing inside her? Yes! That had to be it! Ava plunged her nails into her abdomen, digging and twisting.

She had to find the monster! Find the monster and they'd love her!

Ava cried, breathing heavily. She choked on bloody saliva.

No. The monster was not simply growing inside her. She was the monster.

Ava curled into herself, wishing for darkness. Wishing for blackness and sweet oblivion. But she could not have those things. Not yet. There was still more science to commit.

There was always more science to commit.

She sobbed, empty sounds that blended with the screaming. Where had life taken her? She didn't know any longer, unsure if she ever would. But she had to keep going, because it was much too late.

Much too late to claw her way back home.

Much too late to undo her murders.

She had all the time in the world and yet she was always much too late!

"I'm so, so sorry," Ava said again, not sure if she was talking to the kids or to the world or to herself. But none of it mattered because now she could feel the elixir making her float. She giggled through choked sobs.

And everything melted away.

* * *

 **Just slightly shorter than usual, but I thought this was as far as it needed to go. :) Please review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	13. Lizzy

**Oh hello, looks like I'm not dead after all! I know you probably hate me for not updating but I'm really sorry! But I read an excerpt of the Fever Code today and that inspired me to make this! (just google "Fever Code exclusive excerpt").**

 **Reviews:**

 **thepandabella: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!**

 **fadingshadowss: Thanks and oh my goodness I really like your suggestion. I'll definitely have that up soon. Sorry for such a huge hiatus!**

 **Don'tTrustTheBarrels: Yeah, me too. :) Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Sydney: Thank you so much for saying that. I'll be updating more frequently again and I'm super sorry for the wait!**

* * *

 **Newt's pov**

I loved her so much. She made life worth living. She was my entire being. Two years younger but twice as brave. Lizzy was the best sister I could ask for.

It was a snowy day when they took us. We'd sat at the window with Mum, staring at the flakes that dribbled from the sky. Everything had been so hot after the solar flares, and the snow seemed like such a good omen.

I should've known. Good things never happened to us anymore.

I watched the clouds bleed white ice and remembered all the times we'd gone sledding together. Just Lizzy and I, with Mum and Dad watching from the house. There was a massive hill right in our backyard that was perfect for racing.

On her first time, Lizzy had only been three years old, and I five. We lived up north, in Leeds. And every time it snowed I would prop her up on the front of our wooden sled and then sit behind her with my arms wrapped around her little body. My feet would kick out, crunching in the snow.

Then the sled would inch forwards. I loved that feeling. Feeling it slowly crawl towards the edge of the hill. Lizzy would giggle, shrieking in delight, and I would simply bury my face in her cap. Then we'd be off.

The smooth beams on the bottom of the sled would make a soft scraping noise as we picked up speed. It would wobble a bit, and I would throw my weight to steady us. Lizzy held my gloved hands tightly, smile growing and eyes shining as we neared the bottom.

Whoosh! We'd jump right off the ground, then touch down hard. We usually held contests to see who'd fall off first. But I mostly let her win.

And then we'd have to trek back up the hill and start over. Mum would come out with hot chocolate sometimes, or hot tea, and little crumbly biscuits.

Or Dad would run out and start a snowball fight.

Yeah. Those were the things I thought about, _longed_ for, on that day. The day when the snow came back to warn us and all we did was sit and watch it.

The day that Dad answered the door. The day that I was first labeled as a control subject, not that I knew what that meant at the time.

And now I'm here alone, about to have my memories ripped out one by one. They told me if I try really bloody hard, if I focus, I might be able to hang on to one final memory.

Or at least, one final thought.

So I've spent hours wondering what that should be. My name? My birthday? Maybe my parents' image...No. They said that any images would be lost. Especially faces.

Just thoughts. One sentence.

One thing.

I know what I want to remember.

They're about to take me to the surgery room.

I'm focusing as hard as I can.

I hope I can bloody remember...

'I love her so much.'

* * *

 **Okay so -WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD- I loved the excerpt and I was so pleased that my Newt having a younger sister headcannon was real! Yay! I did almost cry during it though, it's really sad. And I had hoped that it would be in first person, but that's just not how Dashner works. Also, in case anyone didn't know, there was a contest to be selected to actually be one of the characters in the Fever Code. It ended last month thought and I just found out and I'm really annoyed about that! But I do wonder if Lizzy is actually a fan who got chosen in the contest.**

 **Anyway, enough ranting! Thanks for reading and please review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	14. Kin is for Family

**This was requested by fadingshadowss! Hope you like it!**

 **Reviews:**

 **LadyFantasy13: Thanks! I know, I can't wait until it comes out! Enjoy the chapter!**

 **thepandabella: Wow sorry! XD, thanks for reviewing!**

 **fadingshadowss: Yep I'm back! I'm glad you liked it! And I hope you also like what I've done with your idea!**

* * *

Thomas ran through the white hallways. The metal ground felt cool on his bare feet, and he giggled as he turned each corner. He was only six years old, and the adults always told him and the others not to go around this part of the building.

But listening was never Thomas' strong suit.

"Ready or not! Here I come!" He yelled. He ducked into an empty lab, swiveling his head around. Nope. No one in there. Thomas left and ran into another room.

No one there either.

He screwed up his face in frustration. Tiny fists balling up, he sprinted to the other rooms. Boring. They were just full of tables and vials.

Thomas huffed. Suddenly he heard a door close. He whirled around just in time to see someone dart through two large, double doors. Thomas felt his heart beat faster.

He had never dared to go past those doors, but if his friends were brave enough to do it, so was he! Sucking in a quick breath, he pushed through the doors and into the corridor beyond.

"Newt? Minho! Teresa?" He yelled. The sound of giggling carried down the halls. Thomas ran, feet slapping against the ground. As he went further, the air seemed to grow heavy. The stench of something hit him. It was like hay, with mixtures of fish and dirt.

And something else.

Fur?

"Guys! Come on, I give up!" He yelped. He rounded another corner and froze. He could see the shadow of something in the other hall. It was massive, and audible growls emitted from it.

Thomas felt his knees shake as he heard the unmistakable sound of Minho screaming.

Something was attacking his friends! NO!

Bracing himself, he took off and burst into the other hallway with a battle cry.

"GET AWAY YOU MONSTER!" He screeched, eyes closed. There was a moment of silence, then laughter broke out around him.

Thomas opened his eyes slowly, looking around with embarrassment. His friends were all there, squealing and laughing. Minho was lying on his stomach, bashing his fists against the floor.

"Get it off! Get it off! Get it ooooofff!" He yelled. There was a small dog on top of him, nipping at his shirt. Thomas reddened.

"What are you guys doing? You scared me! And where did _that_ come from!?"

"We found a room full of all sorts of animals and stuff," Newt said, pointing to another lab. "Most of them were in cages, but this little guy was just running lose."

"Hey! Thomas get over here!" Minho shrieked. Thomas laughed, pulling the dog away from him.

It licked Thomas' face, dark eyes sparkling under a matting of gray fur.

"Does he have a name?" Thomas asked.

"I think we should call him Max," Teresa said. Minho shook his head, folding his arms.

"No way. We should call him Min."

"Seriously? That's even worse than Max," Newt giggled, running a hand through his blond mop of hair.

"Well maybe Miss Ava can help us name him," Thomas suggested. The others jumped up, grinning.

"Yes! Miss Ava's the smartest person in the world! We can go ask her!" Teresa squealed.

Together they ran back the way they came.

Finally they made it to Ava's office.

"Should we go inside?" Minho wondered.

"I dunno. Usually when the door's closed it means she's busy." Newt said.

"Let's see," Minho opened the door a crack.

"Hey can I hold Max?" Teresa asked. Thomas frowned.

"We said we're not calling him Max and...HEY!"

Teresa snatched the dog away from him, only to have it jump out of her arms.

"Max!" She yelped. The dog slipped through the door and they all heard Ava shriek.

"Great job Resa!" Minho snapped, throwing open the door and running inside.

"Tommy come on!" Newt called out, following Minho.

Thomas took Teresa's hands and sprinted inside.

Ava was holding the dog at arms length, a furious expression on her face. Janson was sitting at a table, eyes wide.

"Chancellor Paige! I don't mean to sound disrespectful but is this how you trained the students?"

"Shut up Janson!" Ava snarled. She snapped her head to stare at the kids, "What are you doing with his animal?"

"It was her fault! She let him go and then he ran in here! We just wanted to see what we should name him and then...um...It's not my fault!" Minho raged, balling his tiny fists.

"We're sorry Miss Ava," Thomas said. Teresa began to cry and Newt placed an arm around her.

Ava looked coldly on.

"I see. You found him in the labs?"

The kids nodded.

"Well then, this dog is for experimentation purposes only. I'll have to return him immediately and fire whichever idiot didn't lock his cage."

"What!" Teresa yelped.

"You can't do that Miss Ava!" Minho whined.

"We'll look after him! We promise!" Thomas offered.

"Come children, we're going to bring him back and then I'm going to lock the doors."

Ava stepped out into the hall with the kids in tow.

"Miss Ava it's not bloody fair!" Newt muttered angrily. Ava sent him a look.

"Language, Newt."

Ava closed the door to the office and walked a few paces down the hallway. Then she bent down, smiling softly. She placed the dog in Thomas' hands.

"Kin," she whispered.

"What?" Teresa said, lip quivering

"That's what I named my first dog. Name it Kin. It means family."

"Wait...we can have him?" Minho asked.

"Just don't let Janson see him, or anyone else, okay?" Ava said.

"Really?" Thomas gasped, eyes twinkling.

"Yes, now go on. I'll bring you guys some supplies later." Then Ava stood up and walked back to the office. Janson smirked as she entered.

"You really need to condition them better if you want even half of them to survive the trials."

"Hmm, thank you for the input Janson. I'll be sure to consult you whenever I'm in need of some ignorance," Ava smiled. Janson glared at her comment, though she ignored the rat-like man.

"Now, I think that concludes our meeting for today. You are free to go."

"You think you know everything, Chancellor. But one day something will happen that even you can't predict." He muttered.

"Oh I'm sure of it," Ava said airily, "Although I can assure you that you will be long dead before that happens."

And with that, the door slammed as Janson stormed out.

* * *

 **Aw, I enjoyed this a lot. Please review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	15. Change

**Hey hey! This is a long awaited request by thepandabella! Enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **Don'tTrustTheBarrels: Thank you! I'm not sure about your idea, so there are no promises. But it does sound pretty funny so I'll look into it. Also, I've been dying to ask about your username. Do you, by any chance, watch PewDiePie? Because your name reminds me of him! Thanks for reading!**

 **thepandabella: Glad you liked it! Oh! And I'm so sorry about the massive wait, but I finally did your request so I really hope you like it! Enjoy!**

 **fadingshadowss: Yay, I'm happy you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **MazeRunnerGirl: Glad you liked it!**

 **glader24: Oh my goodness your review made my day! I'm so happy you like this fic. "Bloody Idiot" is my favorite too! Thanks for telling me what you like, now I have an excuse to write the Gladers as little kids more often! Thanks for reviewing! Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Rachel wandered around the Glade. It was barely her second day there, and only a few people had even spoken to her. Especially since she'd accidentally tried to enter the maze.

Now it seemed as if eyes followed her everywhere, marking her as unstable. It was just nauseating, how everyone could be so ignorant.

Wasn't anyone curious? Didn't anyone want to find out exactly what was in that stupid maze for themselves, rather than waiting for dodgy reports?

Rachel sighed. Suddenly a rumbling sound tore through the air, accompanied by a siren. In a burst of activity, all of the surrounding girls leaped up.

Everyone started heading towards that box thing. Rachel watched them go, slightly curious, but not wanting to cause any more trouble. It seemed that's where the noise was coming from.

Come to think of it, that was the same sound that she had heard on her ascent into the glade. The others had told her that the box was both the source of their new members, and supplies.

And yet...what had Sonya said?

They were only supposed to get new members every month or so.

With renewed interest, Rachel walked closed. The box had just rattled up to the surface, and its doors were creaking open. Almost immediately, shouts of horror rang out. People stumbled back, then came closer.

Rachel widened her eyes. What was going on? A few girls began squealing and hopping. Rachel spotted Sonya and Harriet in the crowd. Grunting in effort, she pushed her way to the front.

Harriet lowered Sonya into the box as Rachel watched in anticipation.

"It's..." Sonya called out, her voice unusually nervous.

"Spit it out!" Harriet growled.

Sonya stared up with a stony look on her face, "It's a boy..."

Rachel blinked. She hadn't really realized until now how lacking this place was in guys.

In fact, the way everyone was acting, this must have been the first one!

"Well, pull him up!" Some one named Beth shouted.

A few people began hauling Sonya and the boy up. They laid him out on the grass for everyone to inspect.

"Is he dead?" Somebody asked.

"He's unconscious," Harriet muttered. "First we get two newbies in as many days, and now it's a _boy_."

"Hold on," Rachel called, "he's holding something."

"She's right," Sonya said. She slowly unfurled the boy's fingers. Rachel saw something white tucked into his hand. It appeared to be a note, with black words scrawled over one side.

The crowd hushed as Harriet read it aloud.

"He's the last one...ever?" She read.

Suddenly the boy's eyes snapped open. His mouth opened in a scream and his limbs thrashed out.

"GRAB HIM!" Sonya shrieked.

Girls rushed forwards to pin him to the grass. His blue eyes rolled around in his head and sweat ran down his face.

"Rachel!" He said.

Then he fell limp, tongue lolling and eyes closing.

Rachel froze. The boy's voice bore into her mind. She had heard that voice before. She knew she had! And yet, she couldn't quite remember.

All at once, the Gladers exploded into voices.

"He said Rachel! I heard him!"

"Yeah! Isn't that the stick newbie?"

"Blinking boy said her name! They're dangerous!"

Beth whirled around to stab her finger in Rachel's face.

"Who is he? Huh? Where did he come from?"

"I um, I don't know. I've never seen him before," Rachel stuttered.

"Liar! You and that stick are obviously from the makers!"

"I don't know him okay!" Rachel yelled. She'd barely been in this stupid place for more than two days and already everything was going wrong.

Beth hated her for some reason.

No one seemed to care that they were trapped in a huge field surrounded by a _maze_!

People were blaming her for everything!

She didn't know anything about herself other than her name.

And _no one_ wanted to answer any of her questions!

With a huff, she stumbled out of the crowd. People grabbed at her, sneering and shaming her.

But Rachel kept walking, faster and faster until she was running, sprinting through the grass. She ran until she reached the forest. Then she sat down and cried.

* * *

It was nearly evening by the time that Rachel found herself back at the infirmary. It was a little wooden shed just off the home-base. It seemed fairly empty of the doctor girls, and she pushed her way inside.

She didn't even have to search. For some reason she knew exactly which room the boy was in. Rachel hesitated a moment, then walked in.

"Hey Rachel," The boy was sitting up, staring right at her with a smile.

Rachel jumped.

"How do you know my name?"

The boy looked down and Rachel noticed the way his hair fell smoothly across his forehead. He was thin, with massive eyes that gave him the look of a lost puppy, and scratches decorated his arms and face. Rachel didn't want to think about how those got there.

"I'm not sure," He said finally, "But I'm pretty sure you know mine."

Rachel blinked. She looked at him in confusion, then bewilderment as a name came to her lips.

"Aris," She breathed. He nodded.

"I think we might be connected somehow. I think we might be important to the makers."

"What are you talking about..." Rachel walked closer, entranced by his demeanor. He shrugged, gazing at her with all the seriousness in the world.

"Soon, Rach, everything's gonna change."

* * *

 **So, this was my first Group B story! Tell me how you liked it! Suggest and review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	16. Hive Mind

**Sorry for the wait, I've been on holiday. Anyway, I figured that the grievers never get any love. So...this happened. Enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **Don'tTrustTheBarrels: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **thepandabella: You're welcome! I hope it was worth the wait!**

* * *

In the hive mind of hundreds, one made it out.

One was reprogrammed, by some unknown scientist, to warn the world.

One of hundreds, slipped out of the maze.

The lone griever crawled through the sand. Its skin bubbled and blistered under the cruel sun. The stench of burning metal permeated the air around it.

The beast had no sense of pain. No despair. It could not comprehend the rot of the world around it.

Humans staggered past with bleeding eyes and ripped hair. A few attacked it, trying to eat the machine. But the griever simply kept walking.

It's sole job was to broadcast a message to every life form it encountered. And it did, before going on its way once again.

 _WICKED is not good._

Bright letters in red appeared in the monitor built into its back.

 _WICKED is not good._

Of course, the machine could not understand the meaning of the words. It only saw them as strange symbols that obviously meant _something_ to the silly life forms with two legs.

But nonetheless it kept going.

Heat.

Yes. The griever understood heat.

Not pain exactly, but heat.

So much heat on its fragile machinery and flesh.

A human streaked past, followed by a pack of others. The griever recognized it as familiar. It knew it was supposed to have a pack also. But where was it?

"BUG! BUGS IS MEAT!" The human screeched.

The griever wailed back, grinding its cogs in a horrible squeak.

The human leaped at it and began digging his hands into the creature's soft back. The griever didn't hesitate.

One of its appendages whooshed forwards, impaling the human with a squelch of blood. The others in its pack froze as their leader dropped to the ground.

Then they lunged and sank their teeth into their comrade. The griever played its message, regardless of the lack of attention.

Power.

The griever also knew power.

It knew that the humans were puny, and that it was far stronger.

And it knew duty, beyond all else.

Loyal to the programming.

Loyal to each bit of code.

It knew what to do when it was attacked, and it did. It knew what to do when nearing potential food, and it did.

There was no aggression or fear or speculation. Only heat and power and duty.

 _WICKED is not good._

The scientist would be punished for this deviation. Ava would notice the missing monster. He'd be tossed to the rest of them, and killed.

There would be screaming.

There would be blood.

And then silence as the grievers feasted.

But no apologies or pleads, because the scientist regretted nothing.

The lone griever kept walking, oblivious to the cruelty of humans.

It watched closely, how they ate each other and hurt each other and killed _each other_.

And somewhere in its coding it knew that that was not how packs acted.

But sadly it could not compute any further opinions.

 _WICKED is not good._

The sun melted through its final layers of skin and metal. A trail of goo followed behind it. The griever knew something was wrong, but lacked the tools to do anything about it.

So it kept walking and walking and walking. And melting and melting and melting. Until it was less than half of its previous size.

Sand stuck to its gears. Human blood accumulated in its joints.

And finally, the griever lay down with a sad whirr. But it wasn't sad, not truly. Emotions were not programmable.

A little girl with ragged clothes and greasy hair walked up to it. She giggled with a laugh that suggested fear, but still she reached out her hand to pet the monster.

Contact.

The griever played its message. Then slammed its remaining appendage through her chest. The sun shone brighter. Girl and machine died together.

Neither felt pain.

 _WICKED is not good._

* * *

 **Yeah so, another short one. But I think this is as far as it needed to go. Please review and suggest! See you guys later!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	17. Strong

**Sorry for the slow update! This is a request from thepandabella.**

 **Reviews:**

 **thepandabella: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! So, I did take your suggestion, but I twisted it up a bit. So I hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

I hate them. I hate them so much. I hope something bad happens to them...

I hope...

I hope they die!

They took me away from Mom and Dad. They broke everything! They try every day to make me eat their stupid food and drink their juices. The other kids here are so dumb. They drink and eat and don't do anything to stand up to the grown-ups!

They told me they're scared.

Dad used to say that being scared is useless. He was right. I miss him so much.

But I can't let them see me cry. I am the strong one. I can't cry. EVER!

The grown-ups are called WICKED, and I don't know what that means. I can't remember my name.

Why don't I remember my own name!?

They call me Minho. But that's not right. I know it's not right but that's what everyone calls me. I don't think the other kids know their names either. They have new, weird WICKED names.

Newt.

Alby.

Gally.

Crybabies, all of them. I am strong. Mom whispered it in my ear the night before they came, that I had to be strong. Did she know? Did she know the bad men would steal me?

Is that why she didn't do anything but cry? When they grabbed my arms and legs, dragging me out the door that they had broken...she just cried and watched me.

My dad knew. I know he must have known because he helped them carry me. And he told me they would save me. He and Mom were sick, that's what he said. And the people were taking me to a doctor so that I wouldn't get sick too.

Strong means no tears. Strong means never sleeping. Strong means always standing back up.

Strong is hard and stupid and scary.

I miss them. I want to go back.

My room is white.

White walls and white floors and a bright white light that comes from nowhere. I hate the whiteness. There are no colors and it feels like sadness. Or like the place you go to when you die. I want to die.

I want to die so I don't have to be strong.

But I can't because I need to find Mom and Dad. Please let me go.

They say the world is dangerous.

I don't care. Everywhere is dangerous. I bet I could find them if they let me leave. I bet I could and then they would apologize and make it better. I'm crying right now and I hate myself.

I remember the day when the sun got mad. When it burned down everything and I remember the pain. I cried then too. And I was not strong. I'll never be strong like my parents.

But WICKED is strong and I hate them so much because they are better than me. There is nothing I can do except yell and not let them feed me. They just walk away.

Or slap my face hard with their stupid gloves.

The other kids watch and they're scared. But they also feel bad for that kid that is me. I laugh when they tell me to stop. I do it more. And I get slapped.

I don't know why I do it. But it doesn't feel good and I hate them for being here.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Mom said that word is bad. I don't care. It's all true. I hate everything and everyone here and I want to go home.

I'm so hungry...

No. Doesn't matter. I'll eat when I find Mom and Dad.

There are monsters outside. I hear them banging on the windows and doors and I hear them screaming in the night. Sometimes they laugh out loud and I am jealous because I don't see what's so funny.

But then I realize that they're laughing at us. Because they're free and we're not and I want them to die.

I'm so scared.

I've never felt like this before. Not even when I got my flu shot.

The tears aren't stopping. I can't make them stop!

I think about that day.

I was eating breakfast, and the door blew open. Mom ran to get out of the way of the men in green suits. Their masks had long tubes that flipped around and made sounds. I screamed so loudly. No one cared.

Dad grabbed me and they grabbed me and I tried to get away. But they were stronger than me just like everyone else. Dad's face got red, and he looked so sad. But he didn't cry.

So I didn't either.

They'll be so proud when I find them again.

"You came back all by yourself?" They'll say. And I'll nod and hug them and they tell me how strong I am. By now they can't be sick anymore, right?

I hope I'm right.

I'm so scared of being wrong.

WICKED will take me to the lunch room soon, and the other kids will see my red eyes. I'm trying to stop my tears but my eyeballs won't listen.

I hate myself for this.

I hate them too.

It hurts to be strong, and I hope I can keep going.

I hope.

I hate.

I'm strong.

I'm scared.

* * *

 **So...that was...really sad. I'm so sorry. But next chappie might be happy. Probably. Maybe. Anyway, review and suggest!**

 **Wolf Out...**


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